


Santa Buddy

by supersinger472



Category: Deadly Premonition | Red Seeds Profile
Genre: Christmas Fluff, George: Merry CHRISTMAS Agent Morgan, M/M, York: Ok boomer, deadprem fan exchange 2019, it's not slow burn it's patchy burn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-24
Updated: 2019-12-24
Packaged: 2021-02-26 07:22:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,105
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21929656
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/supersinger472/pseuds/supersinger472
Summary: The investigation of Anna Graham's murder keeps York in town a little bit longer than expected, into the holidays. A cautionary tale about wearing appropriate footwear for walking on ice.
Relationships: Thomas MacLaine/Francis York Morgan
Comments: 4
Kudos: 15





	Santa Buddy

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this for alimcg1492 on tumblr for the dead prem fan exchange, gee whiz I sure hope they like it!
> 
> You can follow me on tumblr at mpregnateyourocs.tumblr.com or on twitter @SweenMaxine and @GameMaxine

Walking into the Sheriff’s Department was like walking into a storage warehouse for Christmas cheer. Yes, the tables and walls were festooned with tinsel and happy snowmen, but tucked just out of sight, looming bombs of cheer, were massive cardboard boxes struggling to contain still more holiday decorations.

“Well Zach, there’s nothing like a small town’s ability to get in the holiday spirit, is there? I was hoping the investigation wouldn’t keep me here into the New Year, but it’s almost worth it to see these displays.”

“York, don’t say things like that.” Emily shouldered past him from outside, eager to get out of the cold. She was bundled up in a puffy gray jacket and a knit wool cap with little cat ears, wisps of blonde hair fluttering in the breeze from the door. She made a beeline for the baseboard heater and planted herself in front of it, letting out a pleased sigh as she started to thaw.

“You should be more careful, Emily, baseboard heaters carry a high risk of fire. When I was younger, a woman burned down her boyfriend’s apartment with nothing but a wool scarf.”

Emily shook her head, hugging herself as she tried to warm herself up. “I’ll be careful York, but not all of us can be immune to the cold the way you are.” She gestured with her head at York’s outfit, he was wearing a pale blue suit covered in navy blue snowflakes, each one unique in shape and fractal pattern.

“F.B.I. agents receive special training to control their physiology, things like breathing and body temperature.” That wasn’t exactly true, while York had been put through breathing training to keep him calm in combat situations, he could still feel cold, and he did, he just hadn’t thought to bring a heavy coat with him to Greenvale, as he hadn’t expected to stay in Greenvale for that long.

Emily seemed impressed nonetheless. “Well if you say so, you can do the errands that require going outside.” Maybe not impressed as much as not willing to belabor the point.

“Of course, Emily, I’m happy to help in any way you need.” York smiled at her, “are you warm yet? We should go in and Thomas and George we’re here.”

Emily unzipped her jacket with a reluctant sigh, hanging it on a coatrack that was already threatening to tip over with the weight of so many coats. “As warm as I’m going to get, I suppose. Let’s go.”

“Thomas, I don’t think I need to tell you what an amazing cook you are by now but really, you’ve outdone yourself!” York overflowed with compliments as he shoveled savory, spicy bread pudding studded with chunks of Thomas’ home-smoked ham into his mouth, washing it down with creamy, sweet, eggy, non-alcoholic eggnog. The spices of the food warmed him up from the inside out and made his appetite grow with every bite. “I had no idea eggnog could be, well, delicious, absolutely delicious!”

“Thank you, Agent York.” Thomas blushed at the effusive compliments and looked down into his own cup of eggnog.

The break room was as festive as the bullpen of the Sheriff’s Department was, with wreathes on the door, colorful tinsel entwined with fairy lights, and even a plastic Christmas tree in the corner covered in round, gleaming, red and gold ornaments.

Even George was decorated for the holiday, his bulk had been squeezed into a red and green cable-knit sweater and he wore a headband with floppy fabric reindeer antlers.

“Can I assume we have you to thank for the department’s transformation?” York said pointedly to George.

“Well, Thomas put up the decorations, but it was on my order as the sheriff.”

“George does this every year, it’s the only holiday he really celebrates publicly.” Emily said.

“That’s because Christmas is a time for good old-fashioned family values, people sitting around the fire and enjoying each other’s company. They’re not out on the streets causing trouble like on Halloween or New Year’s.”

“What about Thanksgiving? That’s a family holiday.” York let himself imagine the kind of Thanksgiving dinner array Thomas could create and took another bite of bread pudding.

“Thanksgiving is a fine holiday, much for the same reasons as Christmas, but with one key exception.” George held up a thick, calloused finger.

“I think I’ll get some more eggnog,” Thomas jolted to his feet.

“I’m going to make some coffee, want some York?” Emily jumped up and zoomed away from the table before York could ask Thomas to make it instead.

“There’s a war on Christmas Agent Morgan.” George brought his fist down on the table and rattled the silverware. “More and more businesses are afraid to celebrate, they’re being silenced. They want Christmas to be just another day of the week!”

York sipped his eggnog, Thomas had even made it the perfect temperature, not so hot he couldn’t taste it.

“It’s not just about Christmas, it’s about the values of our community. If you let one thing go, suddenly the town becomes uninhabitable. It’s a sheriff’s job to protect the people, not just physically but spiritual.”

“And it’s your job to protect Christmas from people who don’t celebrate it by showing the sheriff department’s official support for it during a season where holiday spirit is really just Christmas spirit with the serial numbers filed off.”

“I want to live in a world where a man can hold a Christmas party for his family, is that so wrong?”

York nodded as he finished up the last of his lunch. “It’s time to get to work.” He stood and walked toward the kitchen where Thomas and Emily were hiding. “Happy holidays George.”

The temperature continued falling all day, which York paid no attention to as he sat in the frankly swelteringly hot Sheriff’s Department writing up reports he’d been neglecting related to his last case with Red Seeds. Emily made phone calls to other police stations around the county, hoping for a lead on the case that hadn’t come to life yet. George disappeared into his office, and when York listened at the door on a whim, he heard the sounds of loud grunting and decided not to pry further. Thomas was the busiest of all, hurrying around the building putting up the remaining boxes of Christmas decorations, bare walls found themselves covered in Santa’s workshop stickers, windows were frosted over with fake glitter snow. And one unfortunately empty table was loaded down with a winter wonderland gingerbread Greenvale, complete with a gingerbread York, distinguished from the rest by the chunk missing from his face.

“Oh my gosh, look outside!” Emily shouted, slapping her hand over her mouth when she realized just how loud she’d been. “It’s snowing!”

York barely glanced up to look out the window at the flurries of snow drifting down and piling up outside the window. “George should be happy, a white Christmas.”

Emily shook her head slowly, “it never snows in Greenvale, it usually just rains all winter long. Does it snow a lot in D.C.?”

“As a matter of fact it does,” York grimaced, thinking back to bitterly old winters and trying to drive on icy roads. Snowy winters and white Christmases didn’t hold much appeal for him, he preferred staying inside with his grandparents watching movies.

“Guess I’ll be walking home today…” Emily grumbled. “I don’t have snow chains on my car. Maybe I’ll ask George and see if he has any.” She got up from her desk and knocked quietly on the door of George’s office, not waiting for an answer before pushing it open and disappearing inside.

“Speaking of snow, Zach, perhaps we should warn Thomas of the inclement weather, I’d hate to hear he got into an accident driving late at night on icy roads. Luckily I’ve already got chains on my car, an F.B.I. agent should always be prepared for the most unlikely possibility.” He closed the old spiral bound notebook he was using, which had a beat-up picture of a young Michael J. Fox on the cover and went to find Thomas.

Thomas was in the basement holding area, standing on an old ladder as he tried to hand a sprig of mistletoe from a ceiling lamp. He hadn’t placed the ladder correctly and couldn’t quite reach. He stretched his arm further, waving his hand to hook the mistletoe, leaning forward on the ladder. Thomas huffed and stepped onto the top rung of the ladder, which wobbled beneath him, and stretched out again to hang the large sprig. 

“Yes!” He cheered as he finally got it hooked and started to step down off the ladder. His foot slipped and he tipped backward, no time to even yell for help as he fell toward the hard, concrete floor.

“Thomas!” York rushed forward and caught him right in time, grunting at the sudden weight of Thomas hitting him in the chest. Thomas was a slender man, but he was still a fully grown adult. York staggered and fell to one knee, but carefully cradled Thomas in his arms so he didn’t get a scratch on him.

“Agent York!” Thomas squawked, frozen in York’s arms.

“Thomas! Are you alright?” York ran his eyes over Thomas’ form, checking him for injury.

Thomas nodded mutely, opening and closing his mouth like a fish, his hazel-green eyes as wide as plates. 

“That’s good. You should really be more careful on ladders. Down here if you’d hurt yourself who knows how long it would have taken for someone to find you.”

Thomas nodded again, looking away from York’s face above his, his face burning hot. “You’re right, I do sort of blend into the background, no one would have noticed I was gone.”

“That’s not what I meant.” York had really put his foot in his mouth now. “I noticed you weren’t around after all.”

“Yes, you did… Thank you Agent York, you’re a really kind man.”

York almost pulled Thomas closer to him, but he ignored the instinct. Instead, he struggled to his feet and set Thomas back on his feet. “I came down here for a reason.” Now it was York’s turn to avoid Thomas’ gaze. “It’s snowing outside and I figured you didn’t have chains for your car so I thought I’d offer you a ride. To your apartment.”

“No, there’s no need to go through all that trouble.”

“I insist.” York had a sudden flash of concern, an instinct that told him not to let Thomas spend the night alone. “You just fell off a ladder, you could have a head injury and shouldn’t be driving, especially without chains on your car. Don’t worry, I’m an excellent chauffeur, I’ve driven Sigourney and her pot home safe several times.”

Thomas shifted his feet and glanced towards the stairs leading up to the Sheriff’s Department proper. “I think I might have plans for tonight.”

“So blow them off. Let’s make an evening of it, just the two of us. We can watch a movie, I’ll make popcorn.”

“Yes!” Thomas blurted out, leaning toward York. “I mean,” he quickly shrank back, “that does sound nice.”

“Then it’s a date.” York smiled, wondering what kind of movies Thomas had at home.

Thomas let out a half-choked cough and rubbed the back of his neck, mumbling under his breath, “see you then.”

York stopped the car in the parking lot of Thomas’ dingy, blocky apartment building and stepped out, shivering in below-freezing night air.

“Let’s hurry inside.” Thomas had a warm-looking, blood red peacoat and a knitted scarf in cream white. His shoes slipped and slid on the icy pavement and he grabbed for York’s jacket sleeve, gasping and letting him go like he’d been burned.

“Maybe let’s take it at a slower pace than that.” York was an old hand at walking on ice, but he kept an eye on Thomas as he walked to the stairs leading up to Thomas’ floor. The last thing he wanted was for Thomas’ flailing arm to knock him out.

The stairs were luckily not as frozen as the parking lot, protected by the roof they only suffered a light dusting of snow that crunched beneath their feet as they made their way up to the second floor. Thomas unlocked the door and swung it open.

As York walked in he took in Thomas’ apartment with interest, he wasn’t sure what he’d been expecting, after the Christmas explosion at the Sheriff’s Department, he might have expected something similar. It was neat, that wasn’t surprising, but the small Christmas tree with a smaller pile of presents underneath it was the only seasonal decoration, along with a large, flat present on the table by the kitchen. The whole house was warm and smelled faintly of Thomas’ delicious cooking, overshadowed by the sharp smell of coffee.

“Oh, hey, you’re back early.” Carol’s voice came from the couch, on the tv was a teen drama starring a girl in a poncho with long blonde hair. Carol sat up slightly and her eyes widened as she spotted York, “what is he doing here!?”

“Carol! What are you doing here? What about the Galaxy of Terror?”

“It’s too snowy, I didn’t want to drive, so I figured I’d raid your fridge. But why the hell are you bringing that nosy F.B.I. guy around here.”

“I-I don’t even know! He offered to drive me home and I thought-I had hoped-he was just leaving! Right York?”

“I was? I thought we were going to watch movies?”

“Actually I’m really tired all of the sudden. Can’t watch a movie if you’re going to just fall asleep halfway through. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Oh, well then Carol do you-“

“Absolutely not.” Carol scooted back down on the couch and went back to her show.

“I’ll see you tomorrow York.” Thomas opened the door and practically shoved York out.

York was almost at his car when he heard Thomas call his name and turned to see him slipping as fast as he could across the parking lot. In his hands he held a large box perfectly wrapped in gingerbread man paper with an enormous gold bow on top, the same one York had seen in the apartment. “Here, it’s for you.” Thomas’ cheeks were pink with cold as he held the box out to York.

“Is there anything you can’t do, Thomas? This wrapping job is wonderful, better than Santa.” York turned the box over and picked at the tape with hands stiff with cold, doing his best not to tear the paper as he undid the wrapping. 

“I can’t take credit for that,” Thomas watched with concern as York struggled with opening the box. “Carol did it.”

“Well now, I’ve heard about hidden depths, but even I would never have expected Carol to be skilled in something as dainty as present wrapping.”

“Carol’s good at all sorts of things, she’s just a little,” Thomas shrugged, “prickly sometimes.”

York finally succeeded at opening the box and pulled aside a layer of tissue paper. Inside was a matching set of gloves, a hat, and scarf. The exact sort of thing York had been eyeing enviously on everyone he passed in town.

“Thank you, Thomas.” York gave him a smile warm enough to melt a glacier as he carefully picked up one glove and examined it. It was black and made of soft leather that seemed to invite touch. York slipped it on his hand and easily wiggled his fingers, the inside was lined with soft fur that instantly warmed his frozen hand. “This is wonderful.” He pulled on the other glove and then the hat, folding the scarf in two and tying it around his neck, he already felt warmer, less like he was going to freeze.

“It seemed like something you’d need if you were going to stay in town much longer. Are you sure you really like it?”

“Thomas, this is one of the best gifts I’ve ever received. It’s not just practical, it’s thoughtful too.” York examined his black gloves next to his blue sleeves, “although it’s not a color I would have chosen.”

“I’m sure you wouldn’t have, I just wasn’t sure what your favorite color was. Black is a nice, safe, subdued color that goes with anything.”

“Well, you’re the fashion expert. I’ll have to find a present for you too, and George and Emily.”

“Of course.” Thomas looked down and held his hands behind his back. “Well, I’d better get back to Carol. Have a safe drive home York.”

“Thank you, Thomas, I will.” York smiled and watched as Thomas took a step back, slipped on a patch of ice and fell forward, throwing the full weight of himself at York, who grunted and hugged him tight as they fell, crashing down on the ice and the wet slush.

“Thomas!” York groaned as he felt dirty water soaking into his suit.

“York!” Thomas leaned over York’s prone form, his body inadvertently pinning him down on the ground by his car.

“Thomas! Are you alright?” York stared up at Thomas’ face, his face bright red from more than just the cold, framed by the cold, gray, unforgiving winter sky.

“I’m fine, what about you?”

“I’ll need to get my suit cleaned again, but that’s nothing new.” York laughed and reached up, feeling shocked when he couldn’t feel Thomas’ skin, only to remember he was wearing gloves. “We should get up, before I get frozen solid here.”

“Wait, before we do that.” York felt cold fingers on his cheeks seconds before Thomas crushed their lips together in a searing, burning kiss. York’s face was numb but he had enough sensation left to kiss him back, Thomas’ lips were soft and sticky with sweet chapstick, making York want to stick closer to him, pull him down and crush him close, protect him from all that was evil or dangerous in the world.

Thomas pushed himself away, his breath making little white puffs in the air. “I’ll consider that my present,” he said in a slightly rough voice before getting to his feet and hobbling away on the icy ground.

York groaned and sat up, watching him make his way up the stairs and to his door. Thomas paused with the door open and gave York a small, awkward wave. Carol’s voice shouted from inside the apartment and he ducked through the door, slamming it behind him.

York climbed into the car and blasted the heat, wondering how he’d explain all the thoughts running through his head to Zach.


End file.
